


The Price I Pay

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Forbidden Love, In a way but its Patick's 'job', Kinda, M/M, Mr.Brightside AU, No non-con between pete and patrick, Non-Consensual Touching, One Shot, Star-crossed lovers (in a way), Tagged non-con because Patrick never actually gives consent and for safety reason, Tumblr Prompt, how do I even tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7544083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>'anonymous asked: So I had a crazy idea for an au, idk if you've ever seen the vid for Mr. Brightside by the killers but, maybe a fanfic based off the vid. Like Pete being in the lead singer and Patrick being the girl...'</em><br/>===================<br/>'It's only a kiss' Pete chants to himself while he watches the man force Patrick's lips to meet his own. 'It's only a kiss...'</p><p>(Peterick Mr. Brightside AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price I Pay

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt sent to me on Tumblr, and omg, I didn't think it would turn out decent, but it kinda did, and I'm somewhat proud of it! It definitely helped get the writing juices flowing again.
> 
> THANK YOU ANON for your amazing prompt! I really enjoyed writing this =)
> 
> All mistakes are mine, as my works are un-beta'd

He knows he shouldn’t be back there, back in the dressing rooms amidst the frills, shimmer, and lace, perfume burning his lungs, as the lights of the vanities hurt his eyes. As he walks through the crowed area, he catches several glances, each with pity in their eyes, boring holes into his skin with each second he’s in the room. He ignores them, adjusting his vest as he makes his way to the private dressing rooms, which were only reserved for the “Prized Dolls” as Mr. Morris, the establishment’s owner and manager (and _disgusting excusing for a human being_ , but Pete knows better than to be vocal about his opinions) calls them.

When he reaches a familiar door, he quickly scans the hallway before quietly making it in; the last thing he wants is word getting back to Morris. As he pushes the door open, he makes his way into the dim room, carefully locking the door behind him. When he turns around, his arms are filled with a warm body, bleached hair (and god, yes he looks good, but he misses the natural strawberry blonde color) ticking his nose ever so slightly.

“What are you doing here?” Patrick whispers harshly, holding on to Pete for dear life, sinking even more into the older boy’s embrace when Pete’s arms come wrap around his middle.

Pete lays a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. “I wanted to see you, before they come in…” He feels the younger boy nod against his shoulder. He wanted to see Patrick like this; sans face powder, the smallest hint of blush on his cheeks or a smidgen of eyeliner to bring out the vivid colors of his eyes, without the skin tight suits that accentuate his ass, curvy hips, and waist, without the sight of someone else’s hands on his body, touching, stroking, teasing…

“Hey…” Patrick breathes, pulling away slightly, “whatever happens…none of that changes anything…” he smiles sadly, but reassuringly, and there’s a part of Pete’s heart that shatters at that. “I’m _yours_ , _”_ … he whispers, a hand on Pete’s cheek.

Pete simply nods and captures petal pink lips, kissing Patrick with everything he could muster, trying to convey the words he could verbalize, the anger he was feeling, the guilt of having dragged this beautiful angel down to the depths of hell…

A knock on the door signals the end of their meeting, an unspoken promise of “later” ringing in the quiet of the room. Pete kisses Patrick gently, once more with a whispered “be careful,” just like he says every time.

“I will be...”

Pete slips out of the room, one of his bandmates standing guard by the door as he makes his exit out of the hall and back into their rehearsal space.

“You gotta stop seeing him like this, man…you gotta let him go…” his bandmates hisses harshly as they evade Mr. Morris’ guards, sneaking out of sight back to the safety of their own quarters. “Patrick’s not yours, Pete…not anymore, and I’m not about to get my ass thrown into the streets just because you refuse to see what’s going on…”

Pete resist the urge to punch him straight in the teeth, to feel the blood on his knuckles and bone against bone. He pushes the urge down, instead, shoving roughly past his guitarist to his wardrobe, keeping himself occupied by getting dressed for the evening, as the image Patrick’s smile and ocean blue eyes dance in his mind and musical laughter rings in his head.

He wasn’t going to let Patrick go, not after all this time, situation be damned…

In Pete’s eyes, Patrick was still his, and he’s Patrick’s.

-x-X-x-

Pete hated them.

He hate the way older men, much older than himself, would look at the blonde, like a fresh cut of meat of a slab, reaching out with sausage like fingers to pull the blonde boy into their lap, to kiss him, touch him, whisper filthy promises into his ear.

All while he watched the scene before him unfold as he sang into his mic on stage, haplessly looking on as his lover is manhandled, like he is every night, while Mr. Morris sits above them, his ever watchful eyes making his that his Dolls please his customers to the absolute fullest…

It makes Pete sick to the point of wanting to throw up.

Patrick makes his way to Morris after his third customer of the night, strangers’ eyes following the movement of his swaying hips, of his ass in tight, fitted pants, and the sliver of pale, untouched skin peaking out from where the top few buttons of his dress shirt have been undone, a loose, unmade bow tie hanging around his neck.

Patrick’s cheeks are flushed, and he had a slight sheen to him due to the amount of people in the room, but he presents himself as if it was nothing, his movements graceful and confident as he hides behind bleach blonde hair, powdered face, and the rouge on his cheeks.

Pete doesn’t mean to but he catches himself staring as Patrick talks to Morris, the older boy’s own expression darkening as Morris meets his gaze and pulls Patrick into his lap, the blonde going easily (as if he truly were but a rag doll). Words flow from his lips and into the mic, but his eyes are not focused on the crowd, but on Morris, and the smug look he gives him as he slides a hand down Patrick’s back to grab his ass.

Pete wants to jump across the stage and rip his throat off, but he continues to sing the next song on the set list.

Morris leans in and whispers something into Patrick’s ear, even as the younger boy looks uncomfortable and tries to break free of his Boss’ grasp, but Morris, simply holds on tighter, his other hand slowly creeping up his thigh, which makes the blonde in his lap stiffen.

As lips move against Patrick’s ear, Morris never creases his gaze on the dark haired singer, whose holding on the microphone stand with an iron grip.  When he finishes, the younger boy’s blue hazel eyes widen. Pete catches it, but before he could react, or even think of a reaction, Morris already has fingers against Patrick’s jaw, caressing the skin there with false tenderness.

Patrick sneaks a glance over at Pete for a split second, sea-glass eyes radiating with worry and fear as he looks locks with whiskey colored eyes of the older boy on stage, before Morris harshly grasps his chin with tough fingers and forces the blonde boy to meet his lips in a disgusting mockery of a kiss.

Pete feels the bile rise in his throat and the blood boiling in his veins.

When they broke from the kiss, the blonde boy seated in Morris lap looked disgusted with himself as the older man smirked, grabbing another handful of his ass before reaching over to lean into his ear once more, his hand making a beeline for his crotch.

With a shaky, resigned nod from Patrick, Morris suddenly roughly pushed him off his lap, the younger boy falling onto his hands and his knees. Patrick stood, straightening himself up before making his way to his next customer, touching a fat business man’s chest teasingly as thick hands ran down the body of his new temporary play thing.

Morris raised a brow over to Pete, as if asking him “What are you going to do know, boy?” But Pete kept singing, ignoring the murderous urge to rip Morris head off, to tear Patrick away from the suit-wearing _pig_ that was already kissing the blonde’s neck. Pete would shove down the urge to heave when Patrick lead his new customer, like he did the others before him, to the back room.

Patrick was his…and he was Patrick’s… He loves Patrick and Patrick loves him…those touches, those kisses mean nothing…. _It was only a kiss…just a touch_

At least that’s what Pete keeps mentally chanting for the rest of the night, this words ricocheting off the walls of his mind. He shakes his head of the self-doubt and _jealously_ that bubbles in the pit of his stomach, pushing it down with all of his might as he finishes up his set.

Patrick is his, what they have together, the love they share; it’s theirs.

_It was only a kiss…It was only a kiss…_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this came out okay! For the life of me, I cannot write one-shots in under an hour...I don't have that kind of time nor that awesome talent. Prompts do take me a while to post, as I'm constantly busy, but are so fun to do and help with writer's block!
> 
> If you have any suggestions or prompts feel free to leave them here or on my [Tumblr](http://shatteredmirrors-and-lace23.tumblr.com/) (shatteredmirrors-and-lace23 in case the Link doesn't work)
> 
> And as always Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> -Xoxo


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